


Savior

by zeryxis



Series: SFDawn [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Demon, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeryxis/pseuds/zeryxis
Summary: The long awaited(??) sequel to my previous fan-fanfic of xladymalice's Swapfell Dawn boys~https://archiveofourown.org/works/12354612/chapters/28102437





	1. Chapter 1

"Sit _still!_ "

Papyrus grumbled as he tried to keep his wings from pulling out of the other angel's grasp. He could hardly help it, though, what with how Undyne worked the needle through the torn parts of his flesh. She wasn't clumsy at stitching, far from it... but the wounds stung from the debriding, and the miniature little tugs of the sutures made the needle feel larger than it was. The reality of the reason his wounds had needed cleaned with further flesh-removal completely detached any enjoyment he could have gleaned from the pain.

"If you twitch again, I'm gonna cut more of your wings off, bonehead," Undyne griped, and he grumbled as he strained to keep from moving, "and then it'll be even longer before I can imp new feathers in."

The larger of the two angels just huffed, looking around at her den. Sharing a space with her wasn't so terrible, but Undyne was uncommonly messy. Her feathers from molts years past still fluttered about, tangled up in her collection of books, scrolls, tablets, charts, and other sources of information. Her territory wasn't as vast as his had been, either. She didn't bother to spend the time pushing out minor devils and demons from the fringes to claim more for herself.

"You're lucky to be alive," Undyne muttered, almost under her breath, just loud enough she knew he'd hear it. Her own slender white wings were still ruffled from his explanation of why he'd dragged himself to her in such a pitiful condition. The important bits of the story had been told, at least. She was the only angel he could actually trust, especially after everything she had done to help him ascend.

He agreed, though. If he'd not offered such a heavy amount of repentance, Gaster might have had enough sway to take hold of him. He'd had to abandon the place he'd had as his territory for so many decades, just because Gaster knew where it was now. Everything had been burned, including the spots on his body that Gaster had touched. It had left an oily residue on him, and that had reviled him the most. That his once-father... that thought had him shudder visibly, Undyne making a warning grunt... had left another mark on him, had left him unable to even clean it away himself. He'd needed her help.

"I'm not going to be able to heal you every time you get burned by playing with your food."

This time he whirled on her, hand at her throat as he slammed her down against the floor. She choked under his grasp, her finer wings flailing out against the hard stone surface, and he shook before pulling himself away, her hands sliding off his wrist as he backed off. Papyrus hunkered under his wings a moment, as if apologizing to one of the only angels he could consider any ally... but he still was too worked up. Everything was raw and searing, and he saw her scoot away, leaving the needle and thread still unfinished on his wing.

The angels considered destroying demons to be a type of ritual feeding... that they would extract strength from the ending of the inherent sin that even being a devil entailed. That some nourishment was gained in the world by removing more of the blight... and usually they didn't call it killing. Just getting their food, just finding a meal. There was no goodness in a demon, nothing to gain except by destroying it. Taking away the negative...

But Sans was not food. He was not something to be taken from the world. His little demon... his younger brother was going to be saved from the hungry maw of finality.

"Finish the sutures," Papyrus said in a hollow voice, sockets empty, "I need to eat."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got this out as lil sooner than I'd imagined... I figured out how to deal with quite a few problems all at once xD

The huge cavern was dark where it wasn't lit in cold violet or pale gray flame, reflecting dully off the jagged facets of obsidian stone. Here, Gaster led the smaller skeleton demon towards the darkened back, stopping a respectful distance from where the ashen-furred Queen of the demons was busy with her crystals.

"Gaster," she said without turning, her voice deep and sweet, drips of congealing blood. She didn't speak for a moment more, and turned, her deep violet gaze sweeping from the tall eldrich demon, to the smaller, scarred one. "Ah, Sans. We were worried, child."

As his father had always instructed, he gave a lingering, silent bow to Toriel, and she her attention back to the the other.

"He had a troubling heat, my Queen," Gaster explained in Sans' stead, a slight smirk to his voice as well as his features, "wandered a little too far in search of his pleasures."

"He is home now," she said, dismissing the issue for a new one, "now we are to discuss his placement for training. He is small, yes, but the bloodline he carries demands great things, Gaster." A low nod, shoulders dipping enough into a slight bow, was the demon's response for a moment, while she continued. "I have several openings for one of his potential. The standing guard has nothing to teach him, nor should I be sending him amoung the common imps and minor devils."

"If I might, your majesty," Gaster said, as the Queen had begun to toy with the crystals in her massive hands. They tinkled and clicked together, and Sans' eyes had been drawn to the sight of the slight sparks of magic that ran between them like arcs of electricity. The bright blue eyelights sparkled when he saw her glance at him, a soft smile on her features.

"You may, Gaster."

"Your hounds," he said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, "they require a fresh handler, do they not?"

Toriel gave a great laugh, the sound of it horrific and amused, booming around them both, before she tossed the crystals aside to disappear in crashes of purple fire.

"If you think the whelp could handle my hounds without being chewed apart, well, Gaster... do take him to the pit. They have been howling for a new try since they devoured the last one."

"My son will be more than capable, my Queen. Your hounds have been caged too long," Gaster gave her another bow, his smile supremely pleased, "and when they may run again, they can hunt you new angels to use at your majesty's glorious whim."

"With a promise such as that," Toriel said, moving in closer to Gaster, her furred muzzle close to his face, "you have the freedom to take a quarter as many angels from my collection as Sans has the hounds bring in."

 

~ ~ ~ ~

Sans watched as Gaster had the third guard unlock a heavy iron-bound door, keyed with so many symbols for constraint that even he was afraid to go inside. But he was not allowed to show the fear, and he straightened his already stiff spine as he followed along the darkened hall. The baying of hounds had been echoing since the first door had opened, and now it was deafening. He didn't realize his father had already chosen what he was planned to train under the Queen in... and his mind strayed back to Papyrus.

The angel, his older brother... he wanted more than anything to go back and be there with him. Wherever he was. He'd seen the flames when he'd glanced back after a few minutes' flight. He touched the spot on his sternum where a scarred mark was still bright, remembering everything he'd seen in that short time he'd been left wanting. Left to suffer and... repent. Sans was lost in his mind when they stopped, and only by the corner of his eyelights did he notice. The howls. They were damningly loud.

_*Pay attention. These dogs do not care who you are. They need a heavy hand, and you will provide it. Having the hounds hunting again will please our Queen.*_

Sans nodded as the two floating wisps of hands finished signing that to him. Trying to speak here would be impossible, and his father did not waste his breath shouting.

_*Here.*_

A small tube of shining black metal was dangled before him, and Sans took it, looking over the little thing. A whistle. He looked up, and the hand signaled for him to continue.

Sans did not hear the sound it made. He felt it. Down in his bones, in his skull, his marrow, his soul. All of him felt the sound it made, and the dogs silenced their baying, confused noises coming from within the last barrier.

"Again."

Sans shivered as he gave another blow of the whistle, this one more painful than the last, and whimpers and yelping whines came from the pit. Gaster slid the door open, revealing nearly a half-dozen huge, pure white hell-hounds. Their eyes glowed with red-hot fire, dribbling down from their eyes and fanged maws like lava floes. One raised his head, baring his teeth and growling low in his throat.

"Silence him."

The whistle gave a short blast of the demand, Sans looking at the dogs. They towered over him, each easily larger than any horse. They seemed to focus now on Sans, who had blown the whistle.

"Command them," Gaster said, turning his head, "and punish them for disobeying. These are your hunting hounds, Sans. Make them yours, and make them hunt. The Queen will be pleased, my boy. When you are done, take them to her chamber. Take you time, Sans," he finished, turning to leave, "do not leave until those dogs come to heel."


	3. Chapter 3

"Miss Muffet?" the deceptively childish voice echoed into her chamber, and the spider demon turned to look over her shoulder at the skeleton who had come into her chambers.

"Oh, Sansy~!" she chirped, sliding down from her perch where she was dissecting something that was now undefinable, pulling her several pairs of long gloves off and tossing them to let her pet gobble up later, "what do I owe the pleasure of a meeting with our Queen's little star of a pack master?" Sashaying up to him, her curves accented by corset and skirts, Muffet looked more the part of a lust devil, though she had so much more to her repertoire as one of Toriel's highest ranking. 

"I need information," Sans said, allowing her to toy with his heavy horns and almost-overgrown wings, as well as the thin golden chains draping across the shifting pistons. She had a nice touch, he'd admit, something ephemeral and coy, leaving behind a pleasant feeling. She gave him a fangy little smile, all five of her eyes glittering. 

"Well, Sansy, that I can do. Just tell me what you're after, and I'll pull a few strings~"

~ ~ ~ ~

The metallic tang his presence added to the air only served to make Undyne more nervous. He'd been out five times since his wings had begun to visibly recover, each time his plumage had grown and shone brighter. But her friend hadn't let himself rest for long, nor had he really spoken much. Her own feathers seemed to wilt in his presence, reminding her of her own cowardice in not taking care of the myriad demons and devils and imps chipping away at the edges of her steadily shrinking territory. But it seemed he would redouble the area, plus more than what had been lost, before he would truly stop at all.

Shifting the still-living little thing in her hands, she knew why he'd brought back some live ones. Too weak and near death to be a threat, but still for her to feed as well. He knew all too well she was afraid, but would not let her go stumbling into weakness because of her lacking hunger. Many angels would drop from exhaustion with the amount of work Papyrus did, but he continued until he'd brought back nearly two dozen minor devils for his companion. Because, even past the rough and sharp way he acted, they both knew he did care about her.

About her usefulness, if nothing more. Undyne could accept that. It was better than she'd hoped for, after all.

~ ~ ~ ~

Angels didn't particularly care for time, it was something that didn't have real meaning to them. Either they were tired, and would rest, or they weren't, and would pursue their goals. But Papyrus had taken to watching the solar and lunar cycles, ticking away at the days and weeks he'd lost on having his demon there with him. Time he'd lost to the pit and the void, time that would create more darkness and sin in his little Sans, and he would have to work for far longer than that to wipe away the layers of filth that would accumulate. But Papyrus would take all the time in the heavens if he needed, to get what was his.

Another bit of dust and blood marked his return to the den, and he saw her flinch as the scent made its way to her. Undyne cringed less than before, but still she held back. Papyrus knew she had a broad streak of fear in her, but he was working away at it as methodically as he did the borders of their now-shared territory. In truth, he could easily claim it for himself, but he felt it was only 'right' that he pay Undyne back for her kindnesses. She had gone far beyond what any angel would have done for... what he once was.

"You should come hunt with me sometime," he said, more of telling her she needed to get out of the damn-near burrow of a cave they inhabited more than once a decade. Her feathers had this dull tinge of green-grey to the edges, curling slightly at the tips. Lack of sunlight. She gave him a soft chuckle, nervous and thoughtful.

"Y-yeah... you're right... m-maybe-"

"Tomorrow night's the new moon," he interrupted, knowing she stammered whenever she was trying to come up with some lie or excuse, "you'll come out then, the imps like it darker." Her reaction - cringing back, glancing aside - was what he'd expected, but she didn't shrink further away, didn't make an excuse... he'd gotten her well enough with the little morsels he'd fetched in these last several months.

Papyrus shifted to put aside his soiled garments, knowing he had a fresh robe waiting - she always kept his things perfect for him, even if her own were left in destitute raggedness. Her work took up so much of her focus... he shrugged out of the robe, feeling her eyes on him a moment before she forced herself to look away. Once dressed, he sat and let her groom his wings as he read over one of the older tomes she'd dug out from the piles of books and parchments. The skeletal angel knew more than the book offered, but since she was going to do as he'd said and go out, he allowed Undyne the reward of tending his feathers long after they were fresh and shimmering.


	4. Chapter 4

The night air felt better than the stuffy, iron-scented cave, and Undyne seemed to bloom a bit under the open sky, her wings spread and fluttering in the breezes.

"There's a nest a bit further to the south," Papyrus told her, "I'll keep them from swarming, but you're doing the work."

"R-right," she said, reminded of the focus of the evening venture. He was getting her out of the cave for more than a night flight and some fresh air. Indeed, the territory looked far different than she'd remembered, the trees were fuller, there was a new patch of plains with a herd of horses, and she'd even spotted a flock of birds that she'd thought were rare.

Her wings stiffened in response to a hard gust, and she shivered as she smelled the blood on the air. The imps were busy, so that at least would make their approach easier to go unnoticed. She heard Papyrus tell her something else, but was trying to focus on what she was being goaded into. She knew he'd keep her safe, but also would know if she was holding back. So she'd have to go as hard as she could, or he would just keep her from being killed, and little else. If she really needed the help...

_"Well, they're just imps. I can handle them, even in the dozens."_

She found the main cluster, swarming over a huge mound of meat - literally all she could describe it as, really. Any description beyond that was impossible. If anything, this looked more like a baited trap than a successful imp hunt.

"Papyrus this-"

"Go get them," he snapped, buffeting her with a wing, "I needed all of them to keep close."

"R-right."

Undyne dropped in a half-circle, checking the edges where a smattering of the offal had been dragged aside by smaller imps. A crack of stone on the ground let her know her pellet would work, and she shut her eyes to not be blinded by the burst of light. Some of it would singe away the weakest imps, and just daze the strongest, with varying levels of effect inbetween. She landed, throwing out a handful of smaller, sharper stones, piercing into the flesh of the imps and holding fast. They then had burrowing barbs pull them in deeper, the unfortunate lesser devils being bled to death by the deepening wounds. She had to pounce backward, wings flared, to avoid being surrounded, and gave another of her flash-stones, with less of a return than before. She needed to keep them from organizing, at least, and work her way around the edges. To keep them from flanking her. A third handful of little pebbles brought out a burst of acid, melting the surrounding imp limbs off to the bone, and putting them down until she could go about with death-blows once the livelier ones were taken care of.

~ ~ ~ ~

Having settled a fair distance away, he kept watch over Undyne without being near enough to attract the attention of the imps, though was at least glad she seemed to recognize the need to work on her own. He wasn't sure how long it would be, since she was working as fast as she could, but there were scores of the little beasts. More than he'd thought, likely drawn in from the surrounding territory by the free food.

His thoughts were cut off when he heard a loud baying, eyelights going to pinpricks as he heard the half-dozen hell hounds, and a flash of bright flame across the sky. It was parallel to where Undyne was busy with her imp swarm. But the fire seemed to bounce, and changed direction right towards her. He was about to go along too, but something else was to take his attention.

Another mouth captured his, the smaller fangs clacking against his own, and a violet little tongue made him feel weak. The way it flexed and curled around his, pulling and coaxing, ensnaring everything of his being into the pale amber ecto-muscle of his tongue. Delicate hands on either side of his face, fingers dancing in time with the wet movements within, captured and pulling him in without so much as hesitation. Papyrus' hand shivered up to where he could feel Sans' leaner form against his ribs, where the demon was half-hanging in the air in front of him by his broad webbed wings. As if he were held up by the motions his mouth made against the angel's own, and the devil made soft little noises as he took his time loosening their tongues from one another. Taking all the time he wanted to free his brother from the kiss.

"Sorry, Papy~" he chimed, giving a playful grin, the sparkle of his eyelights the only thing Papyrus could focus on right now, "I have been _dreaming_ of how I'd greet you once I saw you again."

 "Sans," he murmured, as if believing he were stuck in a daydream of his own, then snapped as he heard several echos of low growls. He was about to respond, but the huge brutes, their pelts brilliant even in the light of the stars, reflecting the bright lava-drool and tears they all bore. A pair carried their quarry, carried the two angels over to Sans, dropping them at his feet, and it was only now Papyrus took in his demon's form.

The horns, the wings, even the little ridges of bone on his tail, all had grown, and perched in the space above his skull, a flickering little crown of dark magic, hovering in the air. He felt his bones all go cold, a shiver along his spine, as Sans inspected the two limp forms. Undyne had a heavy wound to her chest and alongside part of her face, showing where the dog had done the most damage. But he could see where she'd fought back, one of the dogs now had a scalded back, the fur melted away to a dark gray-black that ran along the tops of his legs and face, making him stand out amoung his breed. The acid had done a hefty blow to him, likely why she'd been so deliberately chewed on.

The other angel, his bright plumage and humanoid form edged in rippled of flame, was one of the few that often had some degree of respect for Papyrus. Why he'd been so near to Undyne's territory, he could only guess, but Grillby likely would have flown to Asgore's very lap if it would have had him escape the pack of hell hounds.

Hounds his little demon was now commanding... now using to hunt for Toriel.

"Sans," Papyrus said, but his brother didn't listen for even a moment, running a hand along the edge of the black-and-white dog, who whined but did not flinch away or make any movement.

"Poor thing," Sans chimed, his voice obviously concerned for his dog, and Papyrus wondered if he was already losing him. If his heart was going to break right now, and he'd give in, if only to not be away from him again. But those bright blues claimed his gaze, and Sans gave that same little smile, making a soft gesture towards his ribcage. "I still have them, Papyrus. You promised."

He looked, and now he could see where the scarred tattoos he'd placed were visible, that they had been hidden under layers of glamour and no small amount of practical make-up. He shivered, wondering how Sans had held on to them, because...

"You promised me, Papyrus," he said, taking the muzzles of the two lead-hounds in his hands, looking up at them, "and I expect you to keep that promise. I can't do everything myself, now can I?" he peeked over his shoulder, those blue lights showing more brilliantly than before. "Save me."

He turned back to his quarry, the two unconscious angels the dogs had brought to him.

"They know not to hunt you, Papyrus. I would kill them if they did," he said it in a sure whisper, as if to only let the small pack and the conscious angel hear, "they remember you well enough."

"I'll need her back," he said, indicating Undyne's prone form, "the other, you can take. I know the hounds should be successful in every hunt."

"Hm," Sans said, sounding perturbed that he could only take one. But he turned back to Papyrus, giving his angel an embrace that they both wished could last longer, another little kiss to claim, and he whispered against his mouth.

"Don't let her get caught again."

And then he had to watch them leave, and he shivered in rage that he had to let Sans disappear once more.


End file.
